Slowing Time

One thing I've recently realized is children slow time. They cannot be hurried. And can seem ever ticking to their own metronome.

Trying to hurry Oliver to put his seatbelt on seems only to delay the process. And no matter how much I call and cheer for Bennett to walk to me for a diaper change, he will not walk any faster than he's determined is appropriate. Why run or hurry? What's the rush, my children look to me to answer.

Children have little sense of time.

I have been reading my new favorite book called "Ten Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. She writes about simplicity and taking time to notice the everyday miracles God gives us. This, along with many of the book's themes, has really hit a chord with me recently. It's probably because, in the midst of the monotony of diapers, feedings and naps, I can long for the faster paced world outside my door.

Still, I have begun to recognize the gift of the mundane. It is during the eternity it takes for my three year old to put on his seatbelt ("I do it myself, Momma!") that I notice an adorable older couple cross the parking lot hand in hand and I whisper to myself a wish that my husband and I might one day do that too.

It is during Bennett's second 20 minute Chest Therapy Vest machine cycle that I realize his new love for playing with puzzles.

It is pushing the boys on the swingset outside that I notice our neighbor emerge from his house, for what seems like the first time since winter, and we wave hello.

"Simplicity is ultimately a matter of focus," writes Voskamp. Similar to the stomach that takes time to realize it is full, "how long does it take your soul to realize that you life is full? The slower the living, the greater the sense of fullness and satisfaction."

Children, especially my children, remind me that there is no hurry in life. There is little to be gained by hurrying but much more to be gained in experiencing life in the present.

I want to remember that little feet, snotty noses, dirty diapers and unlimited refills on sippy cups are not things that keep me from life, but they are speed bumps that remind me to experience life more fully.